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He hadn't meant to overhear.
He didn't think it was an issue to visit 2 of his best friends after they've been away for so long. To check and see if they're settling into the guest chambers nicely.
He didn't mean to hear those words, and he didn't know it would hurt so much.
Aang and Katara were arguing and had suddenly ignored him in favour of their argument while he stood shocked and confused.
He'd tuned it out for the most part; most of the insults, digs, and reminders he tuned out and had forgotten by now.
But as he ran away, only one echoed in his mind, twisting his thoughts.
"Ozai's son,"
He went into room likely unoccupied, but the only people in this wing were his friends and guests. It wouldn't matter.
He knew he was babbling in confusion, his thoughts and words blending into a coherent mess as he sunk into the floor, tears streaming down his cheeks.
"Ozai's son,"
Why did it hurt so much? It was the truth. He knew that. Why did it hurt for someone he held so dear to point out that truth?
"Ozai's son,"
Why couldn't he breathe? The world was watery and his throat hurt as he tried to inhale. Was he underwater? Why did his skin tingle? What was this pain in his gut?
"Ozai's son,"
They were his friends. Why would they refer to him so impersonally? He thought they'd gotten close, that they had accepted him. Was that so much to ask? To hope?
"Ozai's son,"
He barely registered the moment someone sat before him, his ears ringing as he reached to do something, anything, with his hands.
"Ozai's-"
"Zuko,"
It was muted, but it cut through his thoughts for a moment. He wanted to cling to that voice.
"Please, breathe with me,"
Loud breathing.
Calm.
Comfort.
He tried to follow it with raggedy forced breaths.
"Good, keep doing that Zuko. Breathe with me,"
The voice was clearer, recognizable..
"Master Piandao?" He asked, blinking away tears.
"Keep breathing Zuko,"
So he did.
And when he was finally calm, he broke down again and explained the rush kf emotion as best he could.
The complicated feelings of the truth that he was Ozai's son. Knowing that his lineage was obvious to anyone who looked. That the complications with his feelings on the man were messy.
"He's my father, I still love him,"
The "and he doesn't love me," went unsaid.
He spoke of the heart-wrenching pain that shot through him when those words fell out of Katara's mouth, the hurt at the idea that someone he held so dear to his heart, a best friend, could possibly think of him as just that.
"Ozai's son,"
Piandao sat there and listened, nodding along.
"You aren't at fault for the blood that has hurt us all," he said as he sat next to the boy, open to any contact the boy wished.
He said nothing when a weight leaned against his shoulder, only silently adjusted.
"He wasn't much of a father," Zuko said, quiet and scared.
"I know,"
"You were much better,"
"You are a fine son,"
"I'm glad somebody has said it,"
Piandao nodded and the young Fire Lord stayed in his rooms for the res of the day anf evening, bundled in blankets and gazing out the window, quiet and lost in thought, only vaguely noticing the passage of time.
He didn't end up eating.
He couldn't.
Piandao stayed nearby, but didn't bother him.
It suited just fine.
He knew the man cared.